


Vasco x M! De Sardet drabbles

by ladyshizuka666



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshizuka666/pseuds/ladyshizuka666
Summary: Drabbles and short fics for my different De Sardets and Vasco.





	1. He wouldn't leave

The waiting was killing him. Everyone knew that the fighting had stopped. The creatures ceased their attacks and backed away down the mountain. Siora was perched on a rock, catching her breath, patching the wounds of Nauts and Natives alike. Vasco kept a watchful eye out for Petrus and, more importantly, to him anyway, Christian De Sardet.

The young man who had followed his cousin up into the bowels of hell, his beautiful, sick, corrupt cousin. Who wanted to do right but was cruelly taken from the only family he treasured. Vasco had felt sick from the moment they parted ways, nerves curling round his gut in waves. However, the battle had held his focus, Siora fighting at his side during wave and wave of creatures. Now, he had too much time to think, too much time to worry and allow anxiety to creep over him. His hands were shaking slightly, the heavy leather that protected them now felt like massive weights.

“Carants, any sign of him?” Siora asked, her steps silent as she stood beside Vasco.

He shook his head, not taking his eyes from the path that Christian had taken hours ago. 

“He lives. I feel he is still with us.” She remarked, a comforting hand taking one of his. They stood for a few seconds before she squeezed his hand sharply, quickly before turning on her heel and back to the wounded. He could see that she worried, worried for her best friend and the impact his possible death could have on their small group. His mind wandered to Aphra and Kurt and how they fared further down the mountain. He hoped they were alright. No doubt going through the same motions and feelings that they all were.

Vasco sat down on a small cropping of rocks, removing his hat and setting it beside him. His hair sticking to his head with sweat. Said hat slid and skittered off the rock, he didn’t pick it up. His mind wandered to the last evening the party had in the wilderness before arriving here. They sat, quietly, enjoying each other’s company. Small talk, nothing of huge importance. Christian had a friendly arm around Siora’s shoulders and a loving one around Vasco’s waist. Kurt told stories of them as children, stories of daring escape attempts, skinned knees and ripped clothes. Aphra studied, she read her notes, shoulders moving with quiet laughter at Kurt’s stories. Petrus prayed, prayed for their victory, for all the lives fighting, for the fragile alliance forged in the rushed weeks prior. They all turned in, tents not providing much warmth. He could almost feel strong but gentle hands upon his body again, silenced declarations of love. A promise to never part. They made love quietly, slowly, hands exploring, lips barely parting. A far cry from some of their previous rushed trysts. Ever mindful of their friends, or the mission at hand. For that night, only the two of them existed.

Letting out a deep sigh, Vasco felt himself tearing up. This was ridiculous, he tried to rationalise, he had heard nothing back, Christian could be on his way down the mountain with Constantin and Petrus right now. But what if he wasn’t? What if he was lying dead, his magic not enough to keep him alive, his armour not strong enough, his feet not quick enough? Right at that moment, Vasco wished he had a metal heart. He didn’t know how to deal with feelings of this magnitude. He was young, only a couple of previous lovers under his belt, neither had lasted longer than a month or so. All his other sexual encounters were with prostitutes or young men and women he met in taverns or at port. He hated to admit it but, he was so utterly in love with and taken by the young De Sardet that his mind and heart didn’t know how to process the magnitude of his feelings.

His head snapped up at sounds coming from ahead, nausea bubbling up at what or who was approaching. He felt Siora at his side, heard the small gasp escape her lips. Petrus has his hands on Christian’s shoulders, a strong, steady presence as the young man carried his cousin, not by blood but heart towards them. Constantin was ashen, all colour drained from his face. Eyes darkened, closed over, body limp in Christians quaking arms. 

Vasco and Siora darted forwards, both trying to take Constantin from Christian’s arms, he shook them off, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes bloodshot and swollen.

“Carants please.” Siora almost pleaded. “Let me aid you.”

Ice blue eyes turned to her, he refused, pushing past them, pushing past Vasco, shouldering him out the way, leaving him staring at Petrus for something, anything, a sliver of information of what ultimately happened. Alas, the older man was not there, he had no idea of what transpired between Constantin and Christian. He grabbed his hat off the ground and followed behind.

They followed him down the mountain, quiet sentinels at his side, the only sounds being the gravel and branches snapping and shifting under their feet. 

In the end, Kurt was the only one allowed to take Constantin from Christian’s arms and, at that moment, Christian collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, an inhuman cry escaping his lips as his magic bubbled and rippled from his hands onto the ground under them. Leaves, rocks and roots shifted around him, Vasco and Petrus took a step back, Siora grabbed Christian’s shoulders, trying to shake him out of it. Her voice sharp and strong in his ear. Aphra guided Kurt and Constantin away from Christian’s outburst. They had to tend to the young man. Before anyone could say another word or make a move, Christian’s magic abruptly cut off as he passed out cold. Vasco flew forwards to grab him. He picked up his partner, feeling how light he felt in his arms. How thin he had gotten as pressure mounted on the island and food became 3rd or 4th priority in the day. 

It took days to get back to New Serene. Vasco stayed by the other man’s side, only moving when he got in the way of healing spells and curatives. He didn’t speak often, his mind too full of everything that could have conspired atop the mountain. He wished he knew more about the inner machinations of his lover but, he didn’t for, if he was totally honest with himself, didn’t see their relationship lasting. Until now at least, that last night together, the words they exchanged made him surer than ever that he never wanted to leave Christian’s side. He wanted to know everything about him, wanted to tell him everything about himself. If that wasn’t enough, the crushing weight in his chest the longer he waited on his lover to return from fighting Constantin. He felt it would overtake him with a burning, crushing vengeance. 

Christian did not wake up once. He was burning up. Petrus and Siora’s magic could only do so much to keep him healed and sedated. “Magic cannot heal a broken heart.” Petrus remarked as they sat in the back of the merchant carriage, Vasco’s impatience and worry boiling over, taking it out on the older male. Finally, they made it to the city, Christian was taken to his residence, Vasco and Siora following closely while Kurt, Aphra and Petrus took Constantin’s body to the morgue. His body needed to be tended to, needed to be treated and preserved. Nobody knew what Christian’s plans were however, Derdre had made it clear that she wanted the island given back to the people, given back so they could heal the hurt. Christian had been talking more and more about going back home, leaving the island to the people who cared for her and set their sites on fixing the homes and countries they already had. Take the knowledge they had gleaned and use it to aid people back home.

Vasco and Siora gently disrobed the young man, leaving him in his undershirt and breeches before ushering the unconscious man into his bed.

“He will be fine.” Siora remarked, a small but strong hand atop Christian’s brow. “He is strong but, I shudder to think what he must have seen, what Constantin offered him. Had circumstances been different, we may have had to kill them both. I shall return to the barracks and remain with the others. Inform me when he awakens?”

Vasco nodded at the young woman as she left, robes whirling around her feet as her steps vanished down the stairs. He never took his eyes from the doorway until the door downstairs clicked closed. And then, it was just mechanically going about the motions. His armour was removed, coat slung over the back of a chair, his hat dropped onto the seat, boots kicked off, sword and pistol removed and placed against the wall, hair tie removed, hands rubbing through tangled dirty blond tresses. It was then, that Vasco realised that tears were trailing down his cheeks. He didn’t know why, Christian was right there, sound asleep, trauma and magic burn out keeping him under. His feet took him to the side of the bed, he sat close to Christian, feeling his arm touch his thigh. He had never been one for fits of emotion, loud sobbing like Siora when they found her mother. However, he couldn’t stop. How close had he come to losing the person he loved? How close had he come to leaving this island broken. And Christian? He had lost his family, the very reason he was here in the first place. Vasco had grown fond of the flamboyant young Constantin, rolling his eyes in humour at the teasing about their relationship, his joyful glee at retelling of their adventures and stories from the island.

“Enough.” He growled as he pulled himself to his feet. He took stock of his face in the nearby mirror. That would not do. His face was red, dirty tracked tear trails down his cheeks, hair clinging to his forehead, the kohl round his eyes had tracked down his face like an inky river. No, this would not do, despite his emotions and worry, he couldn’t go about looking like something that had washed ashore. In the hour it took him to wash, clean up his weapon and clothing, he periodically checked in on Christian, the rise and fall of his chest was almost comforting but, at the same time, unsettling.

He climbed in beside his partner, taking care to not jostle him. An arm over his chest, so gently as if Christian would shatter at the slightest touch. Vasco didn’t fall asleep, not right away at least. He watched over the sleeping man beside him, willing him to wake up but dreading his mental state when he finally did. His eyes eventually closed over, days of fighting and traveling demanding he rest.

Everything was dark, fog shrouded his surroundings but, he could make out De Sardet before him, Constantin at his side. The two looked down upon him, almost mocking him. He felt tiny in their presence. Christian stalked towards him, steps long and sure, the ground practically being eaten up around him, massive chunks of earth vanishing into the void he had just created. Great twisting horns atop his head, his mark spread across his face in cracks of deep earthy green. His eyes, which were once stormy blue, ice cold but, full of warmth when looking at him were blank, deep, dark shadows engulfing them. He held out his hand as a huge creature of wood, flesh and rock towered behind him, it’s stance nothing but threatening. Christian’s hand was stained with blood, flesh slit open. He couldn’t help it, he reached forwards. Pain exploded through his body, his heart feeling like it was going to burst from his chest.  
Vasco snapped awake, blinking stupidly to try to shake the dream from his mind, his eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath, the room was now dark and the general sounds from the streets had all but ceased. Christian was looking back at him, eyes bloodshot and painful looking. His skin, a far cry from its usual sun kissed gleam was pale, ashen, as if the man had seen a ghost.

“My tempest.” Vasco whispered, his hand gently resting atop Christian’s chest, just above his heart.

“Was it a dream?” Christian asked, voice a whisper in the quiet darkness of their room.

“I’m sorry.”

Christian pulled away, a choked wail bursting from his chest as he rolled away from Vasco and onto his side. His back quaked as he cried, loud, broken, uncaring of who could hear him.

Vasco did all he could, he shifted over, his arm wrapping tightly round his lover’s chest, pulling him back, holding him close, as if they were one body. Christians hands grabbed his hand, fingers gripping and squeezing as he cried for his family, his cousin, his frustration. Vasco buried his face into the back of Christian’s neck. A soft “I’m here” against the slightly too warm skin. He was there, he would be there. He would never leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to get something else out soon. On my 2nd run and am so inspired by this game.


	2. Inked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan De Sardet gets his Naut tattoo.

Well, that indeed looked painful didn’t it?

Logan watched, beads of nervous sweat upon his brow as Vasco sat, stony silence, not even flinching as more, painful looking but beautiful artwork was added to his face, his sharp cheekbones specifically. Logan had never witnessed a tattoo being crafted before. He was wishing he still didn’t know. For every single prick of that needle….was it clean? His soul slunk further away, his posture collapsing that bit more.

Vasco had been sitting, so far with his eyes closed, almost as if he were sleeping. If it were not for the redness and the light spatters of soft tissue fluid that he was assured was not thick blood, Logan would call Vasco, handsome, attractive, cute even. He would never tell him that. Sure, they had flirted together on and off and there was that, almost kiss that evening as they two of them talked round the camp fire, a few bottles of ale had loosened lips and soon, after deep, meaningful conversations about nothing of importance, the talk of feelings crept in, with all the discretion of a hurricane. Logan was sure he felt Vasco’s fingers touch his own, he was certain so, he leaned in, ever so slightly, waiting for Vasco to either accept or reject him. Said Captain echoed his movements, both grew closer until an ungodly snore and groan from Kurt shook the two of them back into reality where awkward coughs sputtered around the camp, hair was ruffled through, clothes smoothed down as Vasco made a swift retreat to his tent, Logan tearing off into his on the other side of the camp.

Now, he was a part of a new family, Petrus had helped him find his living relative on the island, he knew of his mother, Vasco had requested him to join his family, the Nauts as a sea born. So, here Logan sat, nerves soaking sweat into his under armour, eyes glaring at a smirking Kurt.

A sharp intake of breath sent Logan roiling forwards towards Vasco, ‘Are you ok?’ spilled from his mouth before he could stop it. Kurt’s sniggering intensified.

A tiny smile was his only answer before the tattoo artist glared at Logan, no doubt as he was verging on being a pest at that moment. He sat back, dejected but absolutely not pouting at being ‘told off’ and time just crept by.

About an hour later, Vasco was finished, his cheeks puffy, swollen and red looking but, oh how happy he looked. His mouth may have not been able to smile but, his eyes were gleaming. 

“Want me to heal you?” Logan asked. He was alright at healing, could ease the pain, perhaps reduce some of the swelling. A hesitant nod was his answer, so he got to work, slipping the magic ring onto his finger, channelling his magic, weak though it was to heal the other man.

“Ok boy, your turn.” Came the gruff voice of the artist and suddenly, Logan’s legs felt weak. With shaking steps, he made to sit down before a hand rested on his shoulder. He was met with a slightly pained but reassuring smile. He sat down and never broke eye contact from Vasco as the artist was sterilising his equipment. 

“It’s not that bad.” Vasco whispered, low enough that only Logan could hear him. 

This time, Vasco was the one to lean in, eyes darting up and down Logan’s face. He closed the distance, their lips met, ever so slightly, it was barely a kiss but, there it was. Vasco’s hand took his, fingers entwining as he sat beside him.

It hurt, it hurt so damn much.

Vasco never let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan is my 2nd De Sardet, my warrior tank.  
Christian didn't get the tattoo's as I did not know they were a thing at that point.


	3. Blindfolded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut.

Blindfolded (Logan)

Heavy breaths echoed around the candlelit room. His chest was heaving with every intake of breath. His skin covered in gooseflesh had a damp sheen of sweat to it.

His mind was racing with the unknown, for he couldn’t see, couldn’t see the fingers that were touching him, the fingers that were tracing his ribs, running over his stomach. Two large hands upon his naked flesh, fingers trailing, kneading and massaging his skin.

His thighs quivered, spread wide to accommodate the body in between them. Stomach muscles jumping, hips jerking with the steady kissing and licking around the juncture between thigh and hip. The lips on his body were warm, moist. A stark contrast to the rough, dry hands kneading his chest and stomach.

Shoulder length hair tickled his stomach and groin as lips trailed down towards his inner thighs, completely avoiding the erection straining against his quivering stomach.

A groan escaped De Sardets throat, his head shifted from side to side in an attempt to jostle the blindfold from his eyes. A simple sash, used to tie over the leather coat usually around his lover’s waist, completely nondescript was now providing him the thrill of the unknown, heightened senses, emotions and feelings.

“Now now Tempest.” Came the slightly besmirched voice, followed by hands pulling the material back over his eyes, tightening the knot at the back.

Logan could do nothing but growl in frustration. He didn’t like losing control. But he trusted his lover, his Vasco implicitly and had allowed him to do this. Rough hands returned to his body, mapping every bruise, every scar, every section of poorly healed knotted flesh marring his dark skin as Vasco’s tongue returned to the flesh under him.

A choked gasp punched from Logan’s throat when he felt that talented mouth close over the tip of his cock. A warm, moist tongue laving round the head. His hands flew to Vasco’s head, fingers spearing through and gripping onto the sun-bleached hair, free from its usual tie. He didn’t know whether it was because one of his senses had been cut off but, for this night, every nerve was on fire, every touch against his skin sent shivering strikes down his spine. Vasco’s name fell in hoarse, harsh gasps from his mouth as his fingers pulled and pushed at Vasco’s head. Strong hands held his hips in place, short fingernails digging into his skin, a quiet but constant warning to stay still, to not push his luck.

A loud cry of his lover’s name practically roared from his chest as his cock hit the back of Vasco’s throat, the ebb and flow as the man periodically swallowed him down. His cries dissolved into breathy grunts as he parted his legs further, trying to vocalise with his body what he wanted, how he wanted Vasco in him. However, it would seem that this was not the end goal this evening as Vasco leisurely kept going, edging Logan closer and closer to climax. 

Vasco’s hands left Logan’s sides and travelled up his chest, fingertips gliding over hardened nipples, gently running over and around the raised flesh. The over stimulation causing Logan to cry out something that could have been Vasco’s name but, perhaps not.

Logan’s breaths became quicker, his legs tightened, caution thrown to the wind as his thighs clamped at the sides of Vasco’s head. His own hands reaching up and tearing the blindfold from his eyes, flaming sunset eyes caught his own moss green ones, a smirk on Vasco’s lips as he engulfed Logan’s cock again, the stud through his tongue gliding over the rigid flesh. His hips jerked upwards, back bowing and stomach clenching as he screamed out his release, rapid and hot down Vasco’s throat, not giving a fiddler’s fart if any of their friends heard them from their respective bedrooms.

His body collapsed back onto the rumpled sheets, his lungs struggling to get enough air in. He felt more than saw Vasco climb up his body, strong, lean thighs straddling his. One of Vasco’s hands on his chest, the other wrapped around his untouched cock.

Logan tried to reach up to help but, “No Tempest.”

He watched instead, sated and woolly feeling as Vasco stroked himself to his own release. The head of his cock red, leaking with every jerk of his sun coloured hand, tattoos blurring with the rapid movements. Logan felt a twinge of arousal despite his sated state as Vasco’s breaths quickened, Logan’s name sporadically speckled through his breaths, and what was possibly the word ‘love’ shoved in there. A word which neither of them used that often. Tempest and Captain were generally the terms of endearment.

Logan quietly gasped alongside Vasco as the man moaned out his orgasm. Release painting Logan’s stomach warm and wet. Vasco breathed steadily through his orgasm, touching himself until he became too sensitive, stomach twitching with overstimulation. 

Vasco rolled and collapsed beside Logan, turning slightly so his head rest against Logan’s chest, his hair falling over the dark chest below him like a sun-bleached halo. Logan blindly reached for the nightstand, grabbing a washcloth that always sat there, it was dry, but would do to swipe away the cooling mess on his stomach.

Once taken care of, his head fell back into the feather down pillows, his arm wrapping round Vasco’s shoulder, thumb lightly stroking his skin, tracing a small swirl of ink unconsciously. He snagged the blankets with his toes, jostling them about until he could at least cover them to their stomachs.

“Dream of calm seas my Tempest.”

“And you my Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one is being worked on.


	4. Peaceful Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small slice of life between Zachariah and Vasco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The small snippet I have used of text is from Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees.  
On my phone kindle so I do not know page numbers.  
I am aware that this title is our world and very, post Greedfall but, its delve into the fantastical and the uncanny totally gripped me and, my Zachariah would totally read something like this.

Peaceful Afternoon (Zachariah)

There were no jobs to do, no errands to run. No governors, allies or delegations to attend to. Nothing else but the book in his lap, the wine in his hand and the muted sounds from the street below keeping him company.

Vasco was still at sea, due back in a couple of days. Despite turning down Admiralty so the two could get married and live together, Vasco still did the occasional trade run of goods and people back to Serene.

Kurt had stopped in, tearing himself away from his recruits for an hour to make sure he was ok. He was ok, maybe a little lonely without Vasco at his side but, Aphra kept him busy with her research and having him proofread her papers on the curing and prevention of the Malichor. He had not seen Siora in a few weeks, her role as Mal in her clan was keeping her busy. Perhaps a trip with Vasco to see her was in order. Petrus was also busy in San Mateus, pushing for the position of Cardinal. De Sardet having been present at more than a few of his meetings, and sessions for his promotion. They were still awaiting the results.

Zachariah was neck deep in faery tales in the uncanny when a ruckus from downstairs jostled him from his peace, wine sloshing in the glass, almost but not quite spilling. Dropping his book on the table, placing the wine down, he dragged himself up and made to the stairs.

He could practically smell the leather and ocean. He didn’t need to see Vasco to know it was him. He took the steps two at a time, practically swinging round the dogleg in the stairs.

Vasco had just hung his coat on the rack, hat being placed on the side table when his arms were full of De Sardet, choking the air from him. His arms wound round De Sardets back on instinct. His nose burying itself into Zachariah’s hair smelling his expensive herbal soap with the underlying scent of leather and sea salt….no doubt he had been wearing Vasco’s nightshirt while he was away.

“My Tempest.” He whispered, hands moving to cup Zachariah’s cheeks.

His sea roughened lips touch De Sardets soft, plump ones and, in that second, his body sagged, relaxed and he was at home. He was safe and comfortable and wanted nothing more to just sit with his lover, just sit quietly, not talk, not distract himself from silence. He didn’t even want to have sex with his partner, that in itself was a rarity. The journey had been rough, cargo had been abundant and the guests on the ship, going back to the mainland were…. trying. One noble lady kept making doe eyes at Vasco to the point of approaching him 1 week in, bosom bursting from her corseted dress, a hand on his arm. A swift lift of his left hand, wedding band glistening upon his finger threw her off. ‘My husband would be most displeased Madam.’ And she was gone.

He was swamped with paperwork, people bickering in close quarters on the ship and, on the return journey, more people, goods, paperwork, more nonsense and, he was at his limit. Vasco was generally comfortable with people, having lived on ships his whole life but, there came a point where he just wanted to run, to get away from everything and everyone.

He pulled away from Zachariah, gently pressing his forehead against the other mans. Eyes closed over, just breathing in the calming scent of their home.

“You ok Captain?” Zachariah questioned, his voice barely more than a whisper in the silence of the house.

Vasco stepped back, nodding once, taking his husbands hand and leading him back up and into the warm study. Vasco wandered over to the coal fire and sat himself down in front of it, back resting against the chair that Zachariah had been previously sitting on. Said man, sat in the chair, legs spread wide with Vasco in between them from his position on the thick carpet.

“Vasco, seriously, are you ok?” Came the slightly concerned voice, deft fingers pulling errant strands of hair behind his ears.

“Up to here Tempest, read to me?”

Zachariah immediately understood, he, himself could only take close quarters with dozens of other strangers for so long, despite Vasco being a Captain, he had a boiling point, most people did.

“As you wish love.”

Vasco didn’t even ask what Zachariah was reading, he did however snatch up the half drank glass of wine, taking a tentative sip as he leaned further back between the man’s thighs, now feeling completely content with the world.

"Besides, there was that foolish feeling of his that reality was not solid, and that facts were only toys; or rather, that they were poisonous plants, which you need not pluck unless you choose." Zachariah picked up where he left off, lips gliding over the words like a master orator. "Beware the cry of Chanticleer, Gibbers away Endymion Leer." And on he read, eyes scanning the pages, fingers leaving Vasco's hair only to turn to the next page, then to resume their relaxing movements through hair soft as spun silk.

Vasco felt himself drifting off, eyes sliding closed as Zachariah’s free hand played with his hair, his voice, quiet, relaxing, totally comfortable weaving tales and fables with practised ease. Never tripping over words, his voice characterising the people in the text. Vasco smiled when he took on the female voices, one of his hands lightly stroking over the top of De Sardets foot.

His mind drowned out Zachariah, and, as if from nowhere, it took him to their wedding day. A mix of Naut and Noble but, not in the way they would have originally thought. The ceremony was on Vasco’s ship, friends and crew, Admiral Cabral presiding. Totally humanist with no mentions of gods or deities just vows of love and companionship; tying their hands with rope, speaking private vows to each other, Vasco tearing up but trying his damnest not to. Zachariah openly cried when he recited his own, personal vows to Vasco. The rope was unbound then given to the couple to treasure forever. Then, the rings, De Sardets idea, something to show that they were each other’s. Vasco didn’t need it but, his new husband wanted to, a throwback to all the noble weddings he was forced to go to as a young homosexual man who would never have been permitted to marry another man had he remained in Serene, instead marrying a ripe young noblewoman, and producing heirs whether he wanted to or not. Vasco would have probably never married but remained on his ship until the day he died however, he wanted to do this for Zachariah, he wanted him to be whole and happy, content and loved so he smiled as the ring was gently slid onto his finger, a slight catch on an always swollen knuckle, years on ships taking an early toll on some of his joints.

His eyes opened, suspiciously watery feeling with Zachariah still reading, fingers still stroking his hair. They were frozen in time at this moment. This? This was just for them, this kind of intimacy, something Vasco never thought he deserved but, in being here, this peaceful afternoon, yes, he deserved this and would never let it go.


	5. My Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just smut and feelings peppered in with Vasco and Christian De Sardet.

My Tempest (Christian de Sardet)

Lounging in an overly hot, stupidly bubbly, outright expensive bath was possibly one of Vasco’s favourite pastimes. He was not a snob, he didn’t demand the best treatment, hell, he was ranked as lower class when walking through New Serene. A classist look at his ink. Oh, the sea dweller, the lowly, penniless peasant…. Who captained a ship, who commanded men, who, despite not having a penny to his name at that point in time, helped save the islands with De Sardet and their ragtag little family. But, sure, believe what you will.

His body sunk further into the tub, a long sigh escaping his lips before his head ducked under the water. His hair floating through the water like reeds in a soft breeze. He had grown it a bit, now touching the middle of his upper arms. De Sardet said that he liked his hair longer, the way it moved in the wind, how it flowed onto his back, how he could grab it and hold it when making love. That was something he could totally get on board with.

Speaking of Christian, after resurfacing from the deep bath water, from what Vasco could see through the partially open washroom door was lounging, atop their bed, sheets cushioning his very lithe, very smooth, very naked body. Book resting atop a down pillow, long fingers turning a page every couple of minutes. Christian’s hair, the colour of crimson spun gold falls over his blue eyes, as icy as the wave spray lapping against the shore. His skin was darker now, his body used to the warmer, sun filled weather. His skin was light brown, with spattering’s of darker freckles over his nose and shoulders.

The longer Vasco stared at his lover, the harder it was to look away. He didn’t want to look away from the body presented to him, unknowingly. Or, was Christian fully aware of what he was doing to Vasco? Was his coy little smile, the tentative lick to his finger before turning a page? Was this to lead Vasco on? To make him ache? Well, it was working as he slowly reached under the hot, bubbly water and lightly ran his fingers over the length of his slowly swelling cock. His sunset coloured eyes drifted closed, his head tilted back a bit, a soft sigh fluttered from his lips as he ran the flat of his palm up his length, feeling the now warm ball bearing piercings on the underside of his erection, just a couple and very small but, he liked them. Something that Christian had been very, surprised to say the least when he discovered them. He didn’t wear them all the time, occasionally he would go au naturale but, he had put them in that morning and would keep them in for a couple of weeks before removing and purchasing new ones.

His eyes opened again, his gaze directing itself to Christian, who was now lying on his side, book forgotten, icy stare meeting his as he mirrored his actions. Vasco drew in a deep breath as he stopped his motions and levered himself from the tub, water spilling over and onto the slate floor, fuck it. He didn’t even stop to dry himself as his strides ate up the 12 or so foot distance between them.

“You are teasing me my little Tempest.” He growled as he practically threw his body onto Christian’s, rolling himself on top and wriggling in between the other man’s thighs. Christian smiled, butter wouldn’t melt as he leaned up, mouth connecting with Vasco’s who proceeded to push Christian’s head back onto the pillows, one hand holding his chin in place as he pushed into the kiss, tongue practically lashing against Christian’s.

Christian groaned, deep in his chest, the vibration rushing through Vasco like a raging torrent. Long legs opened further, Vasco pushed closer, both of their erections touching, rubbing together.

Christian broke away from the kiss, “You put them back in I see…. Or rather feel.” He breathed out, every word sounding like it was being punched from his lungs.

“Just for you Tempest. If you’ll have me.”

“Always my Captain.” And at that, Vasco lifted himself off, reaching over to the bedside table and into the drawer, his fingers found the small bottle, gripping the corked top and dragging it out, never taking his eyes from Christian’s expectant face, ignoring the bottle clinking off of the drawer in his blind haste.

He sat up, leaning back as his teeth pulled the cork from the bottle. He grabbed Christian’s left hand, tipping some of the cool oil over his fingers, watching a few drops trail down the side of his hand and onto his wrist. 

“Prepare yourself, I want to watch.”

He shuffled back, kneeling back down, perched comfortably between Christian’s still spread legs.

He listened, watched and almost felt it himself as a gasp escaped Christian’s lips as his fingers disappeared under his body, one teasing, the seconds taking forever before pushing in. His eyes didn’t move from Christian’s face, he could tell exactly what he was doing by the lilt of his eyes, the slackness in his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest. He dribbled oil onto his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist a bit to heat it up before wrapping his hand loosely around his cock. His own gasp echoing around the room alongside Christian’s gasps and sighs as his deft fingers opened his body up.

Vasco dropped the bottle atop the sheets, his free hand reaching up to Christian’s stomach, his fingers splaying wide over the quivering skin and muscle. Vasco’s eyes drifted closed, head rolling back as his hand gripped himself tighter, strokes being slow but verging on the rougher side. His fingers dug into Christian’s stomach, pushing against the warm, tanned skin as his hips jolted forwards, pushing himself further into his closed fist. He lost himself in the sounds and sensations, Christian’s voice, his pitch picking up, that must be 2 or 3 fingers. His mind conjured Christian for him, his body, lithe and slim, long and dexterous limbs, a sheen of sweat across his chest and forehead, the look on his face the more impassioned he became. His beautiful voice crying Vasco’s name like he was a god…. Fuck. His fist moved faster, his body bowing forwards, hand applying so much pressure onto Christian’s stomach that he halted his motions, reaching out and grasping Vasco’s arm, stopping its motions. Vasco started slightly, so close to coming, so close to killing every mode of passion they were building up. His breath punched from his chest, short, sharp hacking breaths as he stared at Christian’s lust blown eyes, cool ice taken over by dark pools. Whiskey eyes glanced down, Christian’s wrist was still moving, still preparing himself to take his lover. His eyes fell closed, head pushed back into the pillows, his back bowed, legs parted wider as Vasco’s name fell from his lips again. Said Vasco pulled his hand from himself, terrified he would spend early. Instead, he sat back, hands behind him on the mattress, his body exuding relaxed nonchalance as he watched Christian, however, the sweat upon his brow and the bite to his lower lip betrayed him.

“Vasco, please.” Christian whined, fingers removed from his body, wiping the oil absently on the sheets below him…. Great, they need washing but, not right now. His hands reached out for Vasco, grabbing him wherever he could reach, causing him to scramble back on top of the other man, nudging his thighs further apart with his own legs as he took himself in hand, lining himself up with his lovers’ body. He stopped, stared dead into Christian’s eyes, waiting for the nod from him to go ahead. Christian moaned a ‘yes’ at him and he pushed in, slowly, measured, so as to not risk hurting his partner in any way. Too many times in his youth, before Christian, he had been on the receiving end and, unfortunately, some past sexual encounters had left him aching, had not prepared him enough. He would never do that to Christian and Christian would never do that to him.

He inched in, his body dropping atop of Christian’s, feeling his chest heaving, the thin sheen of sweat on his body transferring into his, long legs wound over his hips. He moved his arm back so grasp one of Christian’s legs lightly, holding it in place as he hit home, their bodies fully submerged together. Christian exhaled long and low, his arms wrapping around Vasco’s shoulders, short nails gripping his back, fingers splayed over the weaving tattoos on his bare skin.

His hips stuttered before picking up a constant pace, angling just so to make Christian see stars, to make his eyes roll back and his mouth fall open in pleasure. His lips latched onto Christian’s neck, tongue rolling against the salty flesh before biting in. Creating a love bite that Christian would be hard pressed to cover up. Using powder to dull its redness for court intrigues and meetings. How he loved marking his lover. The legate of the congregation was his, body and soul, his to mark, his to love and care for. Every bite to his flesh, every kiss to his mouth, every long stroke inside his body was his. The lowly Naut, lost and adrift from family and kin belonged to the beautiful man under him just as he belonged to him. Both marking the other, showing naysayers that they were solely for the other, warmed Vasco and Christian to their very cores.

His hands grabbed Christian’s arms, pushing them back, his hands pushing up Christian’s forearms to his hands, fingers gripping tightly together, hands pushed to rest beside Christian’s head, thrown back, lost in a fit of passion.

His hips picked up the pace, practically slamming into the pliant body before him. His climax was rushing over him like a tidal wave, so much so that it took him completely by surprise, a high-pitched cry escaping his lips, hot and moist against Christian’s neck. He wrenched a hand from the vice grip of the lovely mage under him, fingers gripping Christian’s cock, fast, rapid movements, a loud cry of his name, sounding like a question. His free hand gripped Vasco’s shoulder, nails leaving red welts in the skin as he too came, loud and sharp. His stomach and chest the victim of his spending’s.

Both men breathed together, calming down, Christian reached over for a corner of the bed sheet to clean off his stomach as Vasco gently extracted himself but, instead of collapsing beside him, gently lay on top of him. Soft kisses were exchanged, gentle touches of their lips, fingers brushing sweat stuck hair from their foreheads. Hands holding each other close, legs entwined as they continued to kiss and touch each other. They rolled so that Christian was on top of Vasco, his legs parting to give way to the other man. Kisses, touches and loving words continued to be exchanged with Christian’s fingers mapping the tattoos on Vasco’s face. Vasco’s own fingers ghosting over the newer, darker tattoo’s around Christian’s mouth.

“My Tempest.” Vasco whispered before his lips touched Christian’s again.

A gentle laugh breathed through their lips was his answer before Christian took hold of both sides of his face, opening his mouth further into the chaste kiss. Their tongues lazily brushed together but, the feeling, and meaning of their afterglow touches were reinforced through their constant connection. Finally, Christian rolled off of Vasco, his hand however, remaining on Vasco’s stomach, fingers tickling over the skin and the soft hair under his naval. Vasco shuddered with laughter, his hand coming up to touch, to halt Christian’s.

“I do love you Vasco. I fear however, I do not say it enough. I do not want you to falter when thinking of my feelings for you.”

“Your actions tell me every day my Tempest.” Christian’s stomach flipped slightly as Vasco continued. “Never doubt my affections for you or my understanding of your affections for me for the seas would have to drag me down into the depths of the abyss for my hands and my heart to leave yours.”

Warm, soft lips touched the top of his head, any and all anxiety was settled as they lay quietly, hands clasped atop Vasco’s stomach.


	6. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comforting Vasco during his darkest moment.  
Logan De Sardet.  
The song, I felt fit Vasco so well however, there is the word denim in it, which may or may not be have been developed by the time of the game. I was not about to go changing someone's song.  
Which I quoted.

Comfort (Logan De Sardet)

The months at sea had been long, sure, he took to helping the crew, learning as much as he could about sailing, upkeep and defence of the ship, the Seahorse. He soaked up information on navigation and lessons in ropes and knots like a sponge. Vasco commented in passing that he was a natural at climbing the masts. Long legs propelling him, hands knowing where to grab without him looking where to grab. But now? Back on land, he was struggling to lose his newly grown sea legs.

He still felt like he was on the ship, the constant undulating motion, how his body automatically followed the breaths of the ship, how she moved around all of them, every groan of her hull and creak of her spine like masts, her voice, how she kept them safe yet, was a constant and unnerving threat that could kill them all with little effort.

He sat at the port, staring at the Seahorse, staring past her to the vast ocean. He had always loved the ocean, her mysteries, songs in her honour, tales of beasts and creatures so beautiful that their voice could lure you from your senses and into their claws. There was something unknown and exciting about the ocean. Here however, all he could do was remove his boots and socks and dip his toes in the water as he sat on the docks. 

Flavia had spotted him and brought him over a small nip of whiskey. He thanked her but didn’t touch it. Drink was not his thing for he had seen too many people he knew falling to the dangers of alcohol. Their bodies dying with the decay the drink brought upon them. 

He was aware of a presence behind him, although there was no tricorn hat in the shadow, the long coat was a sure giveaway, Vasco. He shuffled over slightly, offering his untouched drink to the former Captain. Vasco took it with a quiet ‘cheers’ as he sat down heavily, his own legs almost forgetting he was on land. His feet didn’t quite touch the water, something that Logan had not noticed as Vasco’s boots did have a slight heel to them. He must have been an inch or two shorter than him. He looked over at Vasco as he took a sip of the drink, a soft sigh rumbling from his chest as the drink warmed him all the way down.

The two men don’t say anything for they were comfortable to sit in silence with each other. In the short time they have been together, working together, Logan helped Vasco find his true name. Leaving him with much to think about while he decided his next move. They had a very light and mild flirtation together over a meal with Kurt, Siora and Petrus the evening after they had helped Vasco. The two had grown very close, talking late into the night about their childhoods, their adventures and their failures. Vasco talked of his first tattoo, given to him as a sea-given but, declined to tell any more about his body art, no doubt as Logan was not one of his own. A shame if Logan thought about it, for he wanted to know Vasco, really know him. He didn’t just want to know the surface, the confident, headstrong Naut with a bit too much attitude and far too many smarts for his own good but, the man underneath, in all his naked glory, who comes to the front when he sheds his coat at the end of the day. Who was he when he relaxed, what did he think about? Did he read? Was he well read, and could he share Logan’s love of verse and prose?

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,  
Old time is still a-flying;  
And this same flower that smiles today  
Tomorrow will be dying.

“We are food for worms my friend.” Vasco commented, startling Logan who was barely even aware that he had spoken those lines aloud.

“We live this day but, tomorrow we may perish.”

“Carpe diem then Vasco?”

Vasco hummed quietly, head nodding in agreement before he tipped the last of the Whiskey nip down his throat.

“Leaving for Hikmet tomorrow?”

“Yes, dawn in the main square.”

“We all live under the same roof my friend. I sleep lightly. I will be up before the sun, never fear.”

Logan watched Vasco leave, his coat billowing around his legs, long strides, all too quickly removing him from the port and his connection to the ocean. 

Logan sat a bit longer, his thoughts mulling over what Vasco’s next course of action could be, not on his current mission of travelling to Hikmet to meet the governor. Would Vasco leave? Would he head back to the mainland and try to find his family? Would he remain at his side, depressed and forlorn, eyes scanning the horizon for the ocean?

Finally, he picked himself up, socks and boots pulled back on before heading back to his house. A few candles were lit as he walked into the entrance vestibule. Petrus nodded as he headed in the front door, it as his watch this night. Siora was curled up at the fireplace in the main entrance hall, a newly acquired sketchbook in her hands as she drew plants and animals. She wanted to teach them all about her world so decided visual aid would help. She smiled to Logan as he passed by. She had opened up a bit more to him after they retrieved her mothers’ body. She was a lovely woman with so much strength and intelligence. She was extremely beautiful but, if Logan was honest, he had been making subtle but, perhaps not so subtle eyes at Vasco for a good few months now and could not see past the sea Captain. However, he treasured the friendship himself and Siora were building, so much so that every time he stared at Vasco, he would feel her smirk, or the soft jab to his side by her elbow.

As he got to the top of the stairs, he noticed Kurt’s door was open, his bed still made, He must be at the barracks, rooting out what had been going wrong there recently. Something about the whole situation unnerved Kurt, and himself if he was honest. His room was at the bottom of the hallway however, as he passed Vasco’s, he heard his voice, low and melodic as he sang. He peeked his head in, said man was sitting at the open balcony, voice sorrowful, eyes glassy as he vocalised his pain, his voice as luring as a siren to which Logan couldn’t step away from. Something punched in his chest, a feeling unlike any he had felt before. He could almost feel the waves of Vasco’s pain crashing down upon him. He didn’t know what it felt like to lose everything but, if this was a tiny glimpse, he didn’t want to see any more.

**Western Wind by Sidsel Endresen**  
“What name is there to carve into the stone when that day draws near  
And every last hope goes out the door and  
You’d take my last and grubby penny to buy that hole in your eyes blue  
Denim stoned and bled on everyone in sight one thick skin a[ling] a last of you  
Still clinging onto the edge of your city  
Cried in the Western Wind [Cried in the Western Wind]”

Logan must have made a sound for Vasco cut himself off, tears finally breaking the dam, kohl darkened trails wove down his cheeks like dark ink diffusing on water.

“I….”

Logan charged forwards, dragging Vasco to his feet and pulling him into his arms. His body felt so small, linen shirt not hiding the slim frame under it. His arms, larger and stronger than Vasco’s would round Vasco’s back, holding him close, hands rubbing his back, his stronger body swaying the two of them from side to side slightly in an attempt to comfort the heartbroken Captain.

Vasco’s hands, previously hanging limp at his side, finally gripped Logan’s waist, fingers digging and clawing into the thick, padded underarmor he usually wore. Logan allowed Vasco to cry his grief, to lament his loss of home and freedom, to a life following De Sardet around. To help, as per the Admirals direction but, in the space of 5 minutes that day, his whole identity had been stripped from him, leaving him bare and adrift with barely a penny or a friend to his name. And now? He knew his birth name and again, threw him a hard left, his body barely catching up with the whiplash.

They stood for several long minutes until Logan whispered, “I will be here. Right here, through all of this.”

Vasco drew back, hands still grasping Logan’s waist. “Thank you, my friend. You are an anchor, stopping me from dashing my body against the jagged rocks of the truth.”

Logan smiled at Vasco, his thumbs wiped the tears from Vasco’s cheeks, skin coming away stained with dark kohl, he didn’t care, His lightly held Vasco’s face, drawing his lips to Vasco’s forehead the same as he did with his mother those long months ago.

“Try to rest Vasco. But I am right next door should you need me.”

Vasco said nothing as Logan stepped out the door and into his own room, hinges screaming in the silence, almost drowning out Vasco’s own troubled thoughts before the heavy wood clicked shut. Tears bubbled up, burned at his eyes before the fell again.

Hours or perhaps minutes later, Logan woke slightly, feeling the bed dip under him, an ink swirled hand holding his bicep, Vasco’s warm body close against his, Vasco’s forehead, touching the back of his own head, an intake of breath, the scent of his hair. Logan made a small, contented noise, echoed immediately after by Vasco. Both men fell asleep soon after.

Vasco was gone before dawn.

Suited and booted in the main square a mournful, betrayed but, partially hopeful shadow growing with the sun as he said, “Good to see you my friend.”


	7. Night Terrors and Folktales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suffering from night terrors, Logan turns to Vasco for much needed comfort.  
My friend is Finnish and directed me to this Finnish God of the sea etc

Night terrors and folktales (Logan De Sardet)

Logan snapped awake, his body wracked with tremors ‘We could be Gods’ echoing in his head, grey and ashen face and eyes, Constantin’s voice slowly fading and dulling, as if he was talking into a pillow the longer Logan lay and stared at the ceiling, until, after a time, the blurred whisper faded into a distant memory, like a panic attack, how blurry and faded it made everything else outside one’s head sound as it gradually vanished with balancing mood and decreasing anxiety.

He lay, flat on his back, staring at the chandelier above their bed, his chest rising and falling in long measured breaths, three seconds in, three seconds out, deep and controlled to bring his heart rate and panic back to equilibrium.

The arm draped across his belly however was a comforting weight, the twisting and curling tattoo’s highlighting and accentuating the lines of muscle on his lovers’ arm were a familiar comfort. He would sometimes spend ages running his fingers, his tongue, trailing his hair as his mouth moved over the beautiful work of art that graced his lovers’ body. He turned his head, tired but alert golden eyes looked back at him, sorrow furrowing his brows for Vasco was intimately attuned to his night terrors after Constantin’s death at Logan’s hand.

Logan watched as Vasco sat up, legs pulled up and crossed under him as he shuffled his body, his very naked body up the bed. His left hand moved, fingers softly, so gently running over Logan’s face, a feather like touch to try and relax him into sleep. His right hand turned the small gas lit lamp on the side table up, gently illuminating the dark bedroom, shining light on the items on the table, book, the metal pin Vasco wears his shoulder blade length hair tied back with, tobacco, Logan’s notebook come journal, a hard leather bound thing you could smash a window with. He reached for the book resting beside the lamp.

Logan sighed, slightly broken sounding, his chest catching as he tried to calm further down. A soft ‘shhh’ from Vasco, followed by his comforting presence, his fingers ghosting over Logan’s nose, touching his lips which puckered slightly to catch his fingertips, tracing round his pronounced jaw.

Vasco propped the book on his knees, thumbing the pages until he found something.

“What tale do you spin for me this night love?” Logan whispered into the silent room.

“I am undecided Tempest.”

Vasco smiled over slightly, his eyes warm, safe, loving and totally understanding of Logan’s ongoing pain. His method for calming Logan down was myth, folklore and fable, escaping into a realm of dragons and faeries for the night. For Logan however, it was the security and peace that came with Vasco’s voice, he could be talking about latrines for all he cared, he could listen to him talk forever. The sailor tone and twang to his accent, the deep, whiskey gristled tone with soft modes in every sentence

“Oh, this one could be good.”

Logan closed his eyes, feeling a warm shroud of darkness and comfort seep through his whole body. Vasco’s fingers trailed down, lingering on his neck, a slight, constant and reassuring pressure.

“The more time I spend with you Tempest, the more you remind me of Ahti.”

Logan hummed in a questioning tone.

“Intuitive, reading people and spending your time with those who you deem to he truly genuine. Why you have bound yourself to me, I will never know.”

Vasco received a weak and weary punch, more like a wet cloth wave to the thigh or a gentle fly swat for that one. A low chuckle from Vasco and a grumbled groan from De Sardet, rumbling lowly from his chest. He did not appreciate Vasco self-depreciating himself in any way.

“Ahti ruled over the waters my Tempest – from the tiniest streams to the largest seas. He was the god of marine life and protector of fish, beaches, seashells and sea birds…. “

“Shells? Really?”

“They provide homes for marine life Logan. And who looks out for all marine life?” Silence…. “Ahti does Tempest, really, some Naut you are. Those tattoos on your face say nothing.” Vasco scolded with humour in his voice, looking at the ink around Logan’s mouth and above his eyes, inked on his flesh only a couple of weeks prior due to his prowess and leadership skills aboard The Seahorse through a storm during their voyage, not one man was fatally wounded, every piece of cargo survived. “You need proper schooling.”

“M’kay love. I hope you are available to teach me all of the Nautly ways I missed out on.”

“Just wait, I will be the hardest taskmaster you have ever had.”

He smiled down at the man splayed out beside him, dark skin almost shimmering under the candle and moonlight weaving softly through the room. He drew his gaze back to the book and carried on.

“The symbol of Ahti was the trident, and he was described as a man with a distinctive beard made of seaweed. Ahti and his wife, Vellamo, both had the ability to create giant waves and rule the currents of all waters. It was believed they lived in an underwater mansion where they kept magical cattle, sea-cows, and sea horses.”

“Oh, is that where the ship gets her name?” “Perhaps, she was named long before we were born. I like to think she was named for that. Gives her some extra protection when we travel.” Vasco mentally praised his ship, well, his ship when he took to the sea with Logan once a year for a good few months. Lauro had worked his way up in his past few years of sobriety and manned her helm solidly in Vasco’s stead after he repeatedly turned down Admiralty.

“If fishermen are disrespectful to the sea, in any way, Ahti would sink their boat…. or ship. If they were respectful, however, he would drive fish into their nets. Therefore, Ahti is and was seen as a god of extreme importance because he is one of the gods who provide food for the people.”

Vasco had closed the book and was just talking now, altering and slightly changing the tense, for the Nauts had a firm belief in their gods and to respect them. Especially with all the technological innervation which, in the past, was feared to have angered the gods when, the first ship installed with new technology was dragged down into the deep during a hurricane. Vasco knew better, the Captain was very new, the crew was possibly ill prepared for the storm but, a small part of him believed in the gods and prayed to them before any crossing for he did not want to anger Ahti.

Movement drew his attention from his musings. Logan turned around, his arm slipping over Vasco’s stomach as he buried himself close, cocooning himself into Vasco’s body.

He sighed softly, placing the book in the nightstand and slid down the bed, turning his body a bit to look into his lover face. His hand came up, tucked errant midnight black hair behind Logan’s ear, smirking at the piercing there, one silver stud, pierced a couple of days ago. He took in the dark skin, darker tattoos, light spattering of freckles on his face, through sun damage on the ship. Small scars here and there, one over his left eyebrow, one cutting into his hairline, the newest, dividing his top lip, during a brawl in the street with a bunch of thugs. His eyes fell upon the small patch of skin, just under his chin, a blotch looking almost bleached. He had seen Nauts with this skin condition before. Doctors and theorists had named it, Vitiligo….it was strangely common in many Nauts, why, he had no idea, but the Bridge Alliance was looking into and researching this, Aphra at the head. Nauts with this condition had very sensitive skin after it bleached, needing extra protections from the sun, they were working closely with Naut admirals and Captains on developing measures to protect Nauts from sun sickness and other skin damage. Still, even if his Tempest’s face totally blotched over with pale marks, he didn’t care. It added to the beauty and complexity of the piece.

“You are so beautiful my Tempest.” Logan smiled slightly in his sleep shrouded state. The two always gravitated together when in bed. According to Siora, she overheard them talking in their sleep to each other one evening as they napped together on the love seat in the main lounge in Logan’s house in New Serene. They had arranged a meal together the next evening in their sleep and remembered nothing of it upon questioning when awoken.

How he cared for this man, more than he thought he ever would. True, they were bound together in the native sense, at least on Logan’s part but, they had not married in the Naut sense…. Yet.

He had to rectify that…. Soon.

“Rest well my Tempest.” He whispered, touching his lips to Logan’s forehead. 

He would sleep reasonably soundly for the rest of the night, nestled in Vasco’s arms. The night terrors may never go away but, every night that he was able, Vasco would ease his lovers’ pain and suffering with tales, stories and lore. He would do this until the day he died…. If possible.

He gently touched Logan’s shoulder, lightly nudging the other man fully awake.

“T-Logan? I have something to ask you….”


	8. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation of my last chapter with Logan and Vasco.

Proposal (Logan De Sardet)

Logan grumbled back into consciousness, his eyes heavy, trying to draw back over and welcome some restful sleep.

“Logan. I must ask you this.”

“What is it Vasco?” Logan asked, slight anxiety creeping into his voice as he sat up, warm blankets pooling round his waist. The last time a lover had woken him in the middle of the night and asked him something like this, the young nobleman he was sleeping with ended their relationship. ‘It isn’t right.’ The other man said, leaving him alone and confused at 19 years old having just had his heart broken, thinking that who he was, was wrong. His mother bless her, had told him to be true, to be himself and never, ever believe or take to heart what those who deny their true selves are. There was truth to her statement but also danger, he was noble, expected to one day possibly marry, become a father, take office. Well, that had been blown out the water. He was pretty much a part time Naut, still attending talks and delegations’ part of the time on Teer Fradee but, the sea was more his home now, thanks to Vasco, his lover.

Vasco gently ran his fingertips over Logan’s chest, pushing slightly at the hard muscle and soft skin down over strong abdominals before glancing down at the trail of dark hair leading to Logan’s covered cock…. No, he couldn’t be distracted. If he didn’t ask now, his nerve would fail him, and it would be 6 months again.

“You are happy with me are you not?”

“Yes, whatever doubts have shrouded your mind to make you think I am not love?”

“No doubts Tempest. Just reaffirmation.”

Logan’s stomach had tied up in a knot. He had a tiny inkling where this was going. It had been on his mind in the few years that himself and Vasco had been together.

Vasco ran his fingers down Logan’s cheek, feeling the soft and some patches of rougher skin, hardened by the ocean and wind. Damn, his lover was beautiful. Midnight black hair fell in loose waves down the sides of his face, over his collar bones and onto his chest, broad, powerful, strong. He could almost feel the weight of De Sardet on top of him, inside of him, a faint shiver passing through his body.

“Vasco?”

“Ok, I am fine. Just, a second more.”

Logan placed his hand atop Vasco’s on his face, feeling the warmth from those comforting fingers.

“Will you bind yourself to me Logan De Sardet?”

“Wi….” Logan’s eyes blew wide. Shock echoed through his whole body despite having a feeling about this. His mind was not ready, and it couldn’t fathom why Vasco wanted to marry him, to bond himself properly to him with ceremony, on Vasco’s ship. To swear to guide and protect each other in sickness and hea…. What was he thinking?

“Yes! Gods yes Vasco!”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Vasco threw his body atop Logan’s, burying his head into the juncture between neck and shoulder, a relieved breath fanning out over his skin, warm tears prickling at his eyes.

Logan’s hands ran down his back, pulling him close, trying to get him closer than his own skin. He leaned down, searching for Vasco’s lips, catching them so softly, a gentle brush, cut off by the two of them breaking into laughter which went on for minutes, a kiss, a laugh and so on. 

Together.


	9. Minundhanem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christian’s chest finally loosened, his stomach untangled as Vasco pulled him down, head upon his chest, arms tight around him. Holding his safe and secure against his body.
> 
> “Oh Tempest? Did you remodel D’Orsay square?”

**Minundhanem (Christian De Sardet)**

Christian scrutinised himself in the mirror, parting his hair this way and that. Vasco had to have been imagining things.

_“Seriously Tempest, I feel bumps on your head.”_

_“There’s nothing there.” Christian vehemently affirmed._

_“Tempest, my hands were wrapped around your head not one hour ago. I felt them.”_

_The mood Christian went into lasted until Vasco was preparing to leave the next morning. Once a year, he took on a trade run to Serene. Which meant he was gone for about 15 weeks on the newer vessels the Nauts were commanding. He apologised before Vasco left, sorry for his childishness at a comment about his appearance which he was very fragile about at the best of times._

_Vasco had swept Christian into his arms, kissing him until his breath was gone, his knees weak and his head foggy and mind useless._

_“Hardy winds.” He whispered to his husband as he placed his tricorne on his head, straightened the lapels of his coat and took his hand all the way down to the port earning whistles and catcalls from fellow Nauts._

Christian had to remain behind this time, duties on the Island needed his attention. Lady Laurine Morange requested his aid on trade deals, land restoration and meetings with the Mal’s of the clans. Generally he went with Vasco, feeling most at home on the ocean or on the Naut island, living quietly with Vasco in the home they built up together.

One week later found himself infront of the mirror, same as everyday, twisting and turning his head until his neck hurt. This day however, before his fingers touched the small lumps on his head, he realised he was late. He was meant to be joining Dunncas and the rest of his on ol menawi in restoring and breathing life into the land. His connection to the land had grown in the years since they had landed and now, he could use the same arts as many of the natives.

“Where is your Minundhanem?” One of the young women working with him asked.

He smiled over at her, not turning away from planting seeds and restoring land quality, sweat marring his brow with the over use of his magic. She had latched onto him when he arrived, asking him every question she could about Serene, New Serene, his companions, especially Siora and ofcourse Constantin. Now dead two years past.

“He is at sea Caden.”

“Why is he on the seas?”

“He is sailing back to the mainland. He is a Naut.”

“He wears the ink on his face? Like you?”

“Many many more than me than yes. His home is the ocean, he gave up much to be with me.”

“But, you are his Minundhanem yes? Then, his home is with you.”

Christian smiled sadly at her. How he wished he could leave. Lady Laurine was governing with ease so, he could….Vasco and himself could sail away, settle back on the Naut island, make shorter, smaller trade trips but, Christian felt a connection to Tir Fradi but, could he just up and leave? Of course, he could return and, the island was mostly in peace with mainlanders either leaving or integrating with the natives, learning to respect the land and learn from her instead of destroying her. Siora would no doubt tell him to follow his heart but, after En ol mil Frichtemen….could he just up and leave, leave after everything the islands deity had done for him?

His weeks passed in much the same manner. Working, delegating, meetings with Lady Laurine, answering questions and queries from Caden whom had just been bound to her love, the slow swell in her belly inciting more questions about how children were raised with the mainlanders.

“Nannies raised me when my mother worked.”

“Nanny?”

“A woman my mother employed to watch me when she could not.”

“My child with be with me when I work. I will make a sling, attach her to my back.”

“You will bring her to heal the land every day?”

“Yes, she is flesh of the land. She will help me when she is of age.”

“That is actually very responsible. Your child will grow up close to her parents, she will learn to love the land, respect her elders….learn responsibility. Too many noble children are selfish and ignorant. I was.”

“You will be a wonderful father.”

“That’s….not going to happen for Vasco and I. We do not see it in our lives.”

“Well, if you ever do, you will be a wonderful father.”

A couple of nights before Vasco was due to return, De Sardet sat out in front of his house in New Serene. He was talking quietly to Constantin. He was not there physically but, he felt him around him from time to time but, the more he spoke, the more angered he became. He wanted to leave but he wanted to stay. If it wasn’t for the Prince, then he and Constantin wouldn’t have come here. Constantin would still be alive, happy and healthy. But he wasn’t happy, not back on the mainland with his abusive father, ignoring his son, forgetting the fact that he even existed until it was convenient to send him and his suspected ‘deviant’ cousin away. Knowing now the amount that the Prince knew, possibly sending them to their deaths. Lost and adrift in a new place, expected to know what to do, how to rule with grace and dignity. Now, Constantin was dead, and all Christian wanted to do was run away.

Fuck him.

“Fuck him!” Christian roared as he flew to his feet, magic bubbling under his skin as he walked towards the statue of the Prince. He groaned aloud as his body bowed, hands dropping to the ground, magic searching, probing for something. There it was, the pull of the earth, the rush through his body as his magic swirled and rumbled under the ground, pushing up through the middle of the statue, stone cracking and crumbling to the ground as roots sprouted up from the earth. Sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes as he yelled out his magic release, pushing out and upwards in powerful tendrils, pain blossoming and lancing through his skull as he blacked out for a few seconds.

His body fell backwards, shoulder wrenching off the ground as he floundered trying to right himself. He could hear whispers around him, in his peripheral saw a few shocked and fearful faces.

“Sir De Sardet!” Came a soft feminine voice as hands braced on his shoulders.

He leaned on Lady Laurine as he staggered to his feet, feeling blood trickle from his nose, his head throbbing what felt like drumbeats against his skull. Together they staggered back into is house. Christian sat, staring into the open flames of the fireplace, tears trickling down his cheeks as Laurine busied herself making tea on the stove. After a few minutes, she crouched down in front of him, a gentle hand on his knee shook him back into reality.

“Dare I ask why you remodelled the square?”

“He sent Constantin to his death my Lady.”

“The Prince? He didn’t know what would happen to Constantin. No one knew. You cannot blame him….or yourself for that matter.”

“He hated Constantin. Hated how carefree and non-conformist he was. Hated that he wouldn’t find a lovely wife and produce heirs. Hated me for my ‘deviancy’.”

“That’s enough Christian. The past is the past. It is done and you are worlds away from there. Wishing we would change the past is a part of life, however, do you let it control your life?”

“I’m sorry my Lady. Sorry for burdening you with my melancholy.”

“Which only seems to happen when you are parted from Vasco….yes? Go with him Christian. Live your life with him. Or, do you think I cannot hold down the fort here?”

“I would never my Lady. Yourself, Seiglinde and Cabral could rule the world if you had to.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, clean yourself up, dust yourself down. Welcome your husband home and have a good long talk with him. It is not all on you to heal the land. So long as you visit from time to time, you are free to follow your heart and your dreams.”

At that, she drew Christian into her arms, holding him against her for a few seconds before picking herself up.

“Now, I must be going, usher any busy bodies into their homes on my way if any dare to linger around your home this evening. Also, take a look in the mirror my boy, the island is always with you.”

Christian raised an eyebrow in confusion, watching as she swept out the door, perfume and long skirts trailing in her wake. He sat for a few more minutes, mentally counting down the hours until Vasco was back in his arms and his bed. Exhaustion took over him so, he took himself up to his bed chamber, glancing in the wall mounted mirror as he passed, a gasp and a double take as he took in his altered reflection. Two horns protruded from atop his head, just above his hairline, trailing back, close to his skull before angling upwards away from his head. He ran his fingers over them, barely able to comprehend why or how this happened. How was he to wear his hats now? Poke holes in them? Poke holes in the beautiful tricorne that Vasco had bought him? No, Vasco would kill him for defacing such an item.

At the thought of Vasco, Christians stomach fell, his heart sank. What would Vasco think of this? Think of these new additions? Would he think he was a freak? Doomed to walk the same path as Constantin? Would he judge him for his connection to the island?

His breath picked up; his chest tightened as he looked out his bedroom window. At least the statue was gone, replaced by a modest curving red leafed tree. Stone crumbled around its base as it waved gently in the evening breeze. He stared out, trying to calm down, to relax his overactive mind and tell himself that Vasco loved him, would never judge him and would always stand beside him, as he had said on their wedding day. No, he had to keep these rational thoughts, keep it in his mind that Vasco would stay with him, accept everything about him.

It did not work of course. He fretted for almost two days. Stomach in knots, mind scattering as he ran over every scenario of Vasco leaving him. Abandoning him to his fully formed bond to the island. He knew that if he left, he would be a bit weaker but, as Lady Laurine said, the island would always be with him and, he would not be gone for good.

The sun was not even over the horizon as he jolted awake, the horns sprouting from his head caught in his down pillow, dragging it up with him a bit before it dropped off, flopping back onto the bed. He heard the door unlatch, soft steps entering, moving through the living room and up the stairs. He could hear Vasco’s long coat creaking as the man removed the hard leather from his body. His body was frozen in place as the doorknob turned, door gently creaking open as Vasco’s tall, slim frame came into view, hat already removed, hair long and flowing down past his shoulders.

“You’re awake my Tempest.” Vasco whispered as his shirt fell to the floor, his body dropping mattress, freezing hands gently taking his before, “Tempest? What is wrong? You are shaking.”

Christian pulled a hand from Vasco’s, a small flame jumping from his palm and igniting the fire on the near wall.

A warm glow filled the room, Vasco sat back a bit.

“I knew I could feel horns growing Christian.” He smiled, fingers gently caressing the new additions to his husband.

“You….don’t mind them?”

“Why would I? Have you seen my face? We are two perfectly matched misfits with my tattoos and your horns. Have I made you think that I would mind them?”

“No Minundhanem….you have not. That failing is in my mind apparently.”

“Minundhanem? The natives use that word yes?”

“It means, ‘the one who shares my mind’ or….soulmate.”

“We are at that my Tempest.”

“Vasco? Can we leave here? Can we take to the waves? Go where the wind takes us? Can we live together in the home we built?”

“Slow down Christian. The day has not yet begun, and I have not slept in 3 days. Can you grant me a few hours rest and then we can talk? We have much to discuss but….yes. Yes, my Tempest.”

Christian’s chest finally loosened, his stomach untangled as Vasco pulled him down, head upon his chest, arms tight around him. Holding his safe and secure against his body.

“Oh Tempest? Did you remodel D’Orsay square?”


End file.
